Siren
by Annerb
Summary: The Galaxy is a dangerous place. With Sam and Vala on the loose, it won’t know what hit it. Gen, pirate!fic. Incomplete.
1. Not So Long Ago

_Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Siren and her crew. Their continuing mission: to get exactly what they want, any way they can. Samantha and Vala will boldly go where few women have gone before (and with a hell of lot more style). _

_The Galaxy just got a whole lot sexier._

_**Siren**_

_Not So Long Ago in a Bar Far, Far Away…_

The bar was predictably seedy, hugging the outskirts of a town that boasted more dust than amenities. Meragan Prime was planet, after all, that not even the Goa'uld could be bothered to conquer. A mark of much distinction, indeed.

The planet probably would have continued along its path of destined inconsequentiality if not for the ultimate defeat of those indifferent Goa'uld. In the aftermath of such radical change, the Galaxy was swept with a burgeoning spirit of free enterprise that provided this rather ignominious, shady planet a new place in the larger scheme of things. It became a planet of commerce. Of a sort.

The Lucian Alliance hardly considered the place worth marking on a map, let alone going to the trouble of controlling. No Jaffa had ever set foot on the planet and the lack of a Stargate ensured that the meddlesome Tau'ri, self-proclaimed Peace Marshals of the Universe, left the citizens to their own devices. As for the Tok'ra, even had they not been a dying race, the average inhabitant of Meragan Prime had never even heard of The Resistance. Resistance wasn't a word commonly used in the grimy backwater. "Get rich any way you can and keep your yap shut," could arguably be the community's motto, if anyone had given enough of a crap to come up with one.

Clichés, after all, exist for a reason. Because if you travel the universe enough, you are bound to stumble upon one now and again.

As a living cliché, the aforementioned bar offered what you might typically expect: booze, games of chance, and companionship, if one proved fluid enough to afford such entertainments. The drinks were watered down, the games rigged, and the ladies dated, but the establishment still boasted a varied and active clientele.

Most of them were smugglers, men trying to get by any way they could in the harsh new galaxy suddenly free of slavery, and for some, purpose. Not that they were all princes among thieves or something similarly trite, rather they were just symptomatic of the larger growing pains of a new, chaotic galaxy.

For Vala Mal Doran, the New Galaxy Order was not so much a big change for her, as simply an even greater opportunity for profit. She was alternatively smuggler, thief, courtesan, or con artist as she needed to be, a chameleon in the truest sense. She consciously drew eyes everywhere she ventured and could distract the most entrenched man from his course with a well practiced flash of deeply corseted cleavage and a sultry smile.

She oozed a sort of overpowering sensuality that robbed men of their senses. It was a talent she learned from her former master, the Goa'uld Qetesh, a fact that would undoubtedly dim the most ardent desire if such knowledge were public. But since it was not, her powers remained undisputed. At that very moment, for example, seated in a seedy bar on a wretched planet, she was delicately sucking on a bright red maraschino cherry (whose very presence on a planet so far from Earth was quite a tale of vast travel and barter in itself). Her tongue rolled the exotic fruit gently across her lips, sucking gently to savor the sweet, if not chemical, flavor.

Now Boyd, the gruff man seated across from Vala, would like to consider himself a man above such blatant displays of sexual manipulation, but that didn't stop him from gawking. Nor did it stop Vala's gently exploring fingers from deftly inching forward unnoticed to relieve him of his rapidly dwindling stack of credits.

In fact, the only thing that saved the befuddled man from being robbed blind was the hand that descended to Vala's thigh, squeezing her hard enough to cause the would-be-thief to almost spit her precious cherry onto the table in front of her.

Once convinced that Vala's sticky fingers were no longer a threat to their contact's finances, Samantha Bliss, Vala's companion and cousin by marriage as they informed anyone who asked, removed her hand from Vala's thigh and turned back to Boyd, the man they had come to make a deal with, not rob.

Vala sighed dramatically and abruptly snapped her mouth shut on the delicate cherry, somewhat boorishly masticating the fruit with enough force to cause the man watching her to flinch and surreptitiously cross his legs.

"Boyd," Samantha drawled, drawing the man's attention. "We've traveled a long way to this backwater hellhole. Tell me it wasn't for nothing."

Though Samantha Bliss was, in most obvious ways, the complete opposite of her cousin, she was in no way without her own indomitable resources. Fair where Vala was dark, Samantha boasted none of the overt sexuality or over the top dramatics so successfully employed by Vala. Samantha was beautiful, yes, but most men with half a brain were not foolish enough to be distracted by that, for if they were convinced that Vala could make any man feel like the center of the Universe if she would just let them into her bed, it was equally clear that Samantha could quite effectively dispatch any of them without so much as misplacing a single strand from her golden coiffure.

Samantha exuded a sharp intelligence and a sort of casual ease that spoke to her utmost surety in her physical prowess. If one looked very closely, they would more than likely detect the faint tinge of recklessness that she kept loosely reigned, ready to be released in the right circumstance. It seemed clear that part of Samantha _wanted_ someone to try something, just so she could let it out to play. It was rare that she came across anyone quite that stupid, though, much to her secret regret.

Boyd, being of moderate intelligence, knew well enough not to mess with Samantha Bliss (even if he was weak minded enough to let his libido do the thinking when it came to Vala). He quickly struggled to pull a small pouch out from around his neck, trying to simultaneously pull together his wits, reminding himself that he was here to check out potential buyers and not the other way around. _He_ was the one in a position of power in this situation. Or so he rather foolishly told himself.

Boyd dropped the pouch to the table with little flourish and an audible clunk.

"A sample," he said, determinedly keeping his eyes off of Vala and attempting to lean casually back in his chair.

Samantha poured the contents onto the table, a single silver curl of metal spilling out with greater gravity than one would expect from so small a shaving. Pulling out a handheld machine, Samantha proceeded to test the metal for purity while Vala continued to ply her trade, now carefully tying the cherry stem into a knot using nothing but her tongue.

"The sample is pure," Samantha confirmed after a few minutes, nodding to her companion.

"Good," Vala said with a smirk. "We'll be needing six bars. Think you can handle that, love?"

Boyd's face betrayed surprise, though whether that was due to the huge amount of naquadah the order represented or the generous swath of cleavage Vala displayed as she leaned in to pat the man's shoulder wasn't clear.

"I don't have that sort of inventory," Boyd eventually sputtered honestly, not wanting to be accused of leading these two on.

"Hmm…," Vala drew out contemplatively. "I suppose you know someone who does, though."

Suddenly Vala no longer looked even remotely beguiling to Boyd. The sex kitten seemed to rapidly turn rather feral and he felt the deal begin to spiral out of his control. Not that it ever had been, poor man.

"Perhaps," Boyd qualified. "But even if I do, what do you have to offer in payment for such a cargo?"

As previously noted, Boyd was not completely without wit. He knew his place in the galactic food chain and there was no way he would risk stepping out of line to contact upper management without proof of a sizable prize.

Smoothly and with the same deliberate calm with which Samantha did everything, she pulled a thin display screen out of her inner vest and placed it softly on the table.

"We offer this in trade."

The screen flickered on to display the schematics of an impressive spacecraft, something well worth six bars of weapons grade naquadah. Boyd's mouth watered at the thought of such a craft, but quickly came back to his senses, knowing that such things were far out of his reach and that he was well out of his league.

"I'll contact my employers," Boyd said.

"Yes," Samantha replied with a smile that lacked any true warmth. "You will."

Collecting their things, the two women pushed back from the table, leaving Boyd to pick up the tab.

Just as they were about to disappear out the door, Boyd pulled his wits together enough to ask, "How do you plan to get your hands on that ship?"

Vala turned and flashed him a devastating smile. "We have our ways, darling."

Of that, Boyd had no doubt.


	2. Another Day, Another Misfit

_Another Day, Another Misfit…_

To be successful, every pair of intrepid entrepreneurs requires a faithful mode of transportation. For Vala and Samantha, that requirement took shape in the form of a Goa'uld _tel'tac_. How the ladies managed to get their hands on it was quite a tale in itself, of which Vala would often mysteriously say that the previous owner simply no longer had any need of it. Which was essentially true, though did not readily reveal the fact that it had been little more than a floating shell when they serendipitously happened upon it.

Luckily for them both, Samantha was a bit of a genius when it came to electronics and Goa'uld technology, otherwise the antiquated ship might have remained what some might affectionately call a rust-bucket. Under the careful ministrations of Samantha, however, the simple cargo ship now boasted more amenities and upgrades than was readily apparent from one's initial appraisal. Not only was the interior partitioned to create more personal space for the continually expanding crew, but the ship was also slick enough to maneuver its way out of the most hopeless of situations.

In a fit of whimsy and without the knowledge of Samantha, Vala had christened the evolving vessel _Siren_, a name that stuck with alarming tenacity, much to Samantha's continued annoyance. Fanciful name or not, the vessel was home, and both women were thankful to climb back on board and leave Meragan Prime and its pervasive dust behind as quickly as possible.

"Ladies," Taban greeted them as they entered the _Siren_. "I trust we had a successful time?"

Samantha smiled warmly at their crewmate, but Vala simply brushed by the man, mumbling something extremely unflattering along the lines of 'giant waste of space.' The rudeness of his employer did not bother Taban, and in fact caused him no small amount of amusement.

Taban was, simply put, an amazingly beautiful man. Samantha, who was not prone to the same whimsy as her cousin, still often caught herself comparing Taban to the great ancient statues carved out of marble that graced the planet of her birth. His physique was svelte, his face perfectly symmetrical. His glowing skin betrayed not a single line that could speak to his indeterminable and highly guarded age.

What was more, Taban was completely aware of his good fortune and had no compunction against using it to the best of his abilities. He was a playboy of the highest order, which simultaneously explained not only his presence on the _Siren_, but also Vala's never dying ire.

Vala could never quite forget that she, of all people, had been played by a player. So caught was she by Taban's beauty when she first beheld him on some long forgotten moon, that she had decided then and there that she deserved a little downtime for extracurricular activities. But Taban so expertly played her with innocent eyes and copious amounts of alcohol, that the next morning all Vala had to show for her evening was a massive hangover and a stowaway that had apparently never had any interest in her in the first place. Or in women at all, for that matter.

What Taban had truly been in need of was a hasty way off of that particular moon, which the _Siren_ and her owners had unwittingly supplied.

When Samantha had stumbled upon him the next morning, resplendent in all his glory as he partook of some of the last of their precious coffee, she had decided that anyone talented enough to pull one over on Vala would be invaluable to their little enterprise. If she also secretly delighted in having someone around who made Vala just a little bit crazy, she never said so out loud. Whatever her motives, Samantha hired him on the spot.

As for Vala, she couldn't decide what was worse, that she had been made a fool of, or that a man of such magnificence was off limits, no matter how many times she tried to catch him off guard with a tactical seduction. Hence her common complaint that he was a giant waste of space. It wasn't that he was without his uses (he was a con-man of unparalleled heights and could charm the pants off of anyone: man, woman, child or animal), but that he was of no particular use to _her_.

Hence her rather brusque greeting to Taban. An unsatisfied Vala was a grumpy Vala. And she never let anyone forget it.

Upon greeting Taban and entering her beloved ship, the first thing Samantha noticed was Vala, now leaning against the nearest bulkhead, happily counting out a stack of credits. Samantha briefly thought of poor Boyd trying to pay their bill and finding himself light of funds. Suppressing a sigh that would do little more than add to Vala's immense delight, Samantha could only hope that Boyd was tempted enough by the deal not to bear them ill-will.

Undoubtedly reading Samantha's thoughts, Vala smirked and turned to the boy sitting at her feet, demonstrating the exact feint of hand she had used to rob poor Boyd.

The boy, Cody William Garret III, was Siren's fourth and final crewmate. Currently, he stared up at Vala, soaking in her every word, carefully storing the information for later use.

Cody was in…acquisitions. Or so that was what the ten year old lad had told Vala the first time they met, tripping rather endearingly over the word. Vala was in a particularly fine mood at the time, for while the boy had thoughtfully relieved Vala of her heavy purse, he only managed two blocks before he realized that not only had he succeeded in picking up nothing more than a sack of rocks, but that his own precious stack of hard earned currency had also mysteriously disappeared.

It took him no more than five minutes to track Vala back down. Looking up at her with near rapturous awe (of a completely different sort than Vala was used to), he had asked, "Lady! How did you _do_ that?"

Vala, in an uncharacteristic spat of generosity or just capriciousness, took the lad to lunch and talked shop for long hours. After all, Samantha was off on a typically boring chore having to do with mechanical something or others that couldn't keep Vala's attention for the length of time it took Samantha to say 'compression coil.' She figured a lunch with a kid who aspired to nothing more than to be as much like Vala as he could was not a bad way to amuse herself.

Two hours later, Vala was once again exposed to the rather valuable lesson that no good deed goes unpunished: the young kid, running frantically after her, armed lawmen quick on his heels.

"Oh for goodness' sake," Vala had cursed before tucking the boy quickly into the safe haven of _Siren_.

"Think you could show me that lift one more time, lady?" Cody had asked, seemingly uncaring about his near escape. "I don't think I got it right."

Vala sighed and tried not to think what kept her from throwing the kid to the law. That was how _Siren's_ crew became four.

The boy was useful in many ways, not the least of which was that while Vala was noticed everywhere she went, people had to literally step on Cody before they paid him any notice (and sometimes not even then).

With no inkling of self-pity, Cody often noted proudly that he was completely forgettable. It was apparent that his parents certainly thought so, or he never would have ended up living on the street plying his rather prodigious talent. Not that Vala would ever admit that soft feelings had anything to do with her decision to bring the boy along.

He was useful and would help them reach their desired end. Period.

Sympathy had no place on _Siren_. Or so the two ladies let themselves believe. If their two erstwhile crewmates believed any differently, they were at least smart enough not to say so.

So like any good cliché, the _Siren_ had rapidly evolved from rust-bucket to beloved home to the most unlikely group of smugglers.

But such musings were far from Samantha's thoughts as she slid into the pilot's seat, her fingers running through an oft-rehearsed routine, pulling them gently off the surface of Meragan Prime. For her, there was nothing more precious than the moment the tenacious pull of gravity released the Siren from its grasp and they were once again racing through boundless open space.

It was time to see a man about a ship.


End file.
